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gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter.

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up.

It was him.

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak.

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises?

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers.

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,”

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment.

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,”

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile.

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped.

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,”

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze.

Fuck.

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,”

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—”

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked.

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break.

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?”

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?”

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks.

“I would,”

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile.

Fuck.

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears.

But how can you be quiet?

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck.

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,”

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass.

He’s huge.

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—”

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,”

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?”

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much.

He was too much.

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,”

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,”

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?”

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—”

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns.

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart.

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up.

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—”

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt.

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store.

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—”

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care.

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump.

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush.

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,”

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?”

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling.

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.”

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern.

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started.

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin.

“What are you—”

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,”

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type.

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?”

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,”

“Mahito—“

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money, “be a doll, won’t you?”

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?”

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?”

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice.

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?”

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.”

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling.

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger.

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods.

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot.

“I will,”

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip.

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,”

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.”

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze.

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—”

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—”

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,”

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—”

“Have another lesson?”

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you.

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue.

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt.

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was.

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—”

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,”

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release.

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure.

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you.

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks.

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much.

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light.

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach.

Your mouth runs dry.

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought.

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you.

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it.

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze.

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch.

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away.

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—”

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal.

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod.

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out.

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!”

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you.

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out, “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?”

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder.

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him.

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—”

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls.

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt.

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick.

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again.

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour.

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise.

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.”

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?”

You were picking up your boyfriend.

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.”

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

#sab [mlist]#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo fanfiction #choso kamo x you #choso smut #choso x you #choso kamo fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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kimmkitsuragi · 3 months

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btw this city is SO BIG i still havent explored the whole map AND there's also the sewers!!!!!!!! but i found where that cazaloser lives. not yet tho. a little bit more preparation time pls.

#i wanna explore the city so that i can upgrade more of my items lol #when i was like sureeeee let's finish shart's questline #i was utterly destroyed. so maybe i should git gud a little bit #anyway another excuse to spend hours on my inventory and stuff 🙄#let's get that high ac tho. monkey see high number monkey go wheeee now im unstoppable #i swear i actually had some commentary abt my gameplay but i think i will just sleep #this is the best i can do now #playing bg3

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annihilatius · 4 months

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Playing Re8 on hardcore mode and I swear to God Mother Miranda has more hit points than every enemy in the game combined holy shit she just doesn't die

#v.txt #resident evil #SHE ISN'T HARD it's just even on standard difficulty it takes an entire centuries worth of time and more to kill her #i get so far but i get fucked over by using up all my healing items on stupid mistakes #i swear i would have besten her by now if i had just one more first aid kit right as i was about to die and gave up

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itostea · 10 months

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the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)

gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.

warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)

The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him.

He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with.

Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course.

Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down.

Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered.

At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy.

Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on.

You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on.

“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels.

You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up.

“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”

“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission.

You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.”

Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice.

His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”

Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”

“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).”

His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late.

He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to.

You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.

You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.

It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”

You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”

“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.

You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”

For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?”

“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to.

He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?”

You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults.

He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”

Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

It’s a vow he swears to keep.

“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”

He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise.

Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #arranged marriage #i'm in my jjk phase bye

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vaguelyhauntedcornfield · 1 year

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Why are my dreams either the wildest or most mundane shit

Like either my 8th grade English teacher turns into an evil sentient banana tree forcing our class to lord-of-the-flies it or i just have a very regular conversation with someone i know

#or like i’ll be living life just 9 inches taller #i woke up today SWEARING i had a convo with someone when i cery much didnt #not even an important one lol #i wanted to buy an item in dnd and the dm said he was restricting availability of magic items going forward #mind you i only have dnd on Wednesdays and only very occasionally talk to my group outside of it #well like voice chat that is we’re all way more likely to text

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roseykat · 5 months

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TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand.

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around.

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room.

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink.

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him.

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled.

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself.

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks.

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely.

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves.

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung.

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed.

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground.

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.”

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask.

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender.

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further.

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out.

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement.

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise.

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?”

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung.

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.”

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers.

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!”

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.”

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it.

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside.

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs.

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.”

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.”

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out.

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body.

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting.

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you.

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?”

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it.

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare.

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking.

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight.

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying.

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?”

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour.

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled.

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl.

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.”

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity.

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face.

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late.

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?”

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off.

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process.

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin.

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off.

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?”

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.”

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.”

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that.

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate.

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.”

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees.

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit.

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants.

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning.

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge.

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun.

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you.

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.”

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself.

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.”

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches.

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps.

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear.

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again.

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #Hyunjin x Jisung

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b1rds3ye · 10 months

Text

“Your Hoodie? No, My Hoodie.”

How the boys react to you stealing their hoodies/clothes, if they would steal yours, and other cute clothing shenanigans

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions

Genre: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k (~300 each)

Warning: A little spice but no smut

A/N: After writing some drama/angst pieces I figured some pure fluff will do me good 😌

Captain John Price

Price’s fashion sense has become a little dated, so while he has one or two hoodies, he owns a lot more jumpers and vests (especially those puffy ones that all American dads seem to wear in colder weather)

He also doesn’t wear said hoodies all that much so if you steal them, he’ll likely just compliment your attire like a gentleman then go about his day. When he does notice the hoodie as his, he doesn’t care, you can have it

“Lovely top, darling.” “Price, sweetheart, this is yours.” “… Ah, so it is.”

However Price will notice if you use one of his jumpers or sweaters, not that he has a problem with it. In fact he encourages it, he thinks you look far better in them than he ever will and you actually make his clothes look fashionable when all he ever cared about was practicality

It becomes a bit of a love language of his, for the sake of being a gentleman and as he gets older he’s more aware of the cold. Price is always making sure you’re suitably warm before going outside when it’s chilly and he’s always giving you his own clothes to layer yourself with

Ever a traditional man, Price loves doing up your outerwear for you, as you keep talking and he nods along with deft fingers making work of buttons or zippers. There’s something intimate about it, having his hands so close to your abdomen, with him being responsible for your warmth and consequently your wellbeing

Has considered asking you for a hoodie or item of clothing of yours to bring him comfort on missions but eventually decided against it. His operations get messy unexpectedly and quickly, heaven forbid if he loses your items. He doesn’t have the best habits either and he’ll never forgive himself if he gave your clothes the lingering smell of cigar smoke

Simon “Ghost” Riley

When off duty, hoodies are his go to. They’re simple, easy to put on, the hood obscures more of his features and with his stature they help him look terrifying. He has quite a few but they’re all the same dark shades so for the longest time you thought he only had a couple

He always tells you and Soap that he’s “plenty fashionable” and you genuinely can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. All you know is that it looks like he wears the same outfit 24/7

The first time he saw you in his clothes, it activated something in him. It was an almost animalistic possessiveness, like wearing his clothes meant you were willing to be owned by him

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all he can say, it’s quiet, barely audible but just loud enough for you to hear and get the hairs on your back standing. You feel like prey being found by the predator as he stalks up to you and attacks you with kisses

Seeing you in his clothes is like a public broadcast that you’re with him, that you’re proud to be with him and Simon wishes he can reciprocate but he’s got a reputation to uphold but most importantly, he doesn’t want to put a target on your back by associating you with him

He still does little things just so he can feel connected to you though, he’ll gladly slip accessories under his sleeves or in his pockets to remind him of you

He has taken one of your hoodies with him on long missions, he swears it’s the only thing that keeps him sane when he brings it close and gets the scent of you and home. He’s not concerned about having it damaged, he leaves it at base, neatly folded and stashed away like a treasure that he guards with his life

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Has a respectable amount of hoodies, he likes how comfy they are and he wears them well. The only thing better than him wearing them, is you wearing them

He’s a tease, he wants you to take his hoodies but he’ll never outright say so. You won’t have a choice though when he straight up steals and hides all of your outerwear, leaving you to drift over to his wardrobe and take something

And then he acts incredibly smug about it as if he didn’t orchestrate the entire damn thing

He gets giddy whenever he sees you wear his things, you just look so damn cute. If you’re leaving for an event you better hope your friends don’t mind you being half an hour late because he will latch onto you, begging you to stay with him

Johnny will also try to wear your clothes. Doesn’t matter if you’re a few sizes smaller than him, he’s not afraid of prancing around in a crop top in the confines of your home (or in public if he’s very tipsy). Are you a similar or larger size to him? Well call Johnny a communist because it’s not your closet but our closet now. Don’t be surprised if some of your favourite clothes “magically” disappear

He becomes very proud and energetic when wearing your stuff or vice versa, he puffs his chest out like a pigeon but he does get very serious and apologetic if he accidentally damages your things and will immediately buy you a new one

A chronic clothes stealer, he has most definitely taken your non-important items with him to missions. He stores them under his camp bed, he calls it a mini shrine that he worships for good luck

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Probably the most fashionable out of the 141 (although the bar isn’t set particularly high), he has a range of hoodies for various casual occasions, dark for covert missions, brighter if he’s just out with friends, you name it, he’s probably got it

His clothes are so high quality you honestly feel bad so you initially avoided using his clothes, which just broke Kyle’s heart because he’s an absolute sucker for the trope of partners sharing their things. He has to near beg you to take his stuff

But when you finally do? Especially out of your own volition? Kyle is all over you, praising you to the moon and back about how good you look, trying to encourage you to take more of his things

Extra points if you borrow his hats, Kyle swears it’s the cutest sight in existence and now he has a reason to look forward to a sunny day

Loves cuddling you while you’re wearing his hoodie, particularly where you’re lying on the couch and he’s on top of you, head on your stomach or chest. He has to give himself credit, he bought some very soft hoodies and on you with his head listening to your heartbeat has him feeling like he’s lying on a cloud

He adores how at the end of the day his clothes end up smelling like you instead, he’s almost tempted to never wash them

He will never gift you clothes, if you want clothes you’re taking them from his wardrobe and that’s final. The only exception is if he wants you two to wear stylish matching outfits where he’ll supply you with what you need

Alejandro Vargas

A man of style, Alejandro much prefers his turtleneck jumpers (also because he knows he absolutely kills it) but he does have a hoodie or two if he’s really prioritising discretion or comfort for the day

Seeing you in his hoodie gets him incredibly riled up, even if to you it’s not incredibly stylish or sexy. The instant he lays eyes on you in his clothes he’s rushing up to pull you into a passionate kiss, hands tugging and massaging you through the thick fabric. Whenever you have to pull away he’s purring in Spanish before pulling you back in

Obsessed with seeing you in his clothes, if you ask for a jacket he’s automatically going to his wardrobe. If you want your own clothes you’re going to have to get it yourself because Alejandro can be very stubborn when he wants to be and will only bring you his own attire

Alejandro will gladly borrow your clothes if he can, but only in private. It destroys him inside because he desperately wants to be publicly associated with you but he will never risk your safety associating with him in Las Almas for his own selfish wishes

An absolute gentleman, he loves putting clothes on you. He opens up the hoodie so it’s easier for you to slip your arms in, he zips it up for you, and then he tugs at the folds so it compliments you perfectly. In his world, you’re the emperor and he’s but a humble and grateful servant, he’s not letting you lift a finger

The only thing he could enjoy more than putting on your clothes is taking them off for you. Not even in a lustful manner (although that’s not off the table for him), it just feels intimate, like he’s pulling armour off of you, with you entrusting him with your most vulnerable self and he’s honoured you trust him this much

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

He likes his cosiness and practicality so he has a fair lot of hoodies and he’s more than happy to lend them to you. You don’t even have to ask, he just assumed that when you two became a couple his stuff was yours too

But when Rudy first saw you in his clothes, he was taken aback. He never thought much of his clothes, they just look decent and offered functionality, so how did you make such mediocre items look so damn good?

Gets oddly sentimental when he sees you in his clothes. It’s such a domestic sight, one he thought he’d never see when he dedicated himself to Las Almas. Every time he’s holding you close, peppering your face with brief but hefty kisses. You won’t be escaping his grip anytime soon

Rodolfo will only borrow your clothes if you explicitly tell him you can. He adores you and treats all your items as something sacred, it feels almost blasphemous using your things

When he does use your items, he realised it’s been a long time since he’s felt bashful. Not that he’s embarrassed or ashamed of you, far from it. He just knows some of his soldiers will ask and he’s near giddy that he can talk about you

Another clothes helper, he giggles when he sees you get tangled and lost in his slip on hoodie, accidentally trying to put your head through the arm sleeve. He gently guides you, and when you finally poke your head out, he gives you a soft smile and a kiss on the forehead as though he hasn’t seen you in months

“Ah, I found you mì amor.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #los vaqueros x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rudy x reader #/*avery actually writes*/

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luv4kozume · 3 months

Text

🏹 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘 — MATT STURNIOLO

Part 01

Previous: Part 00 Sneak Peek

BadBoy!Pervert!Matt x GoodGirl!Fem!Reader

Contains: HELLA PLOT + time skips, swearing, private college au (reader is 18, Matt is his current age; school uniforms), brief mention of drugs (weed, implied stoner!matt), praise, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), teasing, begging, riding, missionary, dorm sex, unprotected sex, squirting + creampie, enemies to lovers. Not proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your obnoxious classmate, Matt , are assigned a project to do together. You go back to his dorm to work with him but it soon began to take a sexual turn.

Word Count: 4,645+

💋 — Requested: “can u write a fic where chris or matt r ur school bully and one day while walking up the [stairs] they touch ur butt or like look under ur skirt and then it’s some enemies to lovers thing going on in a classroom. idek if this made sense but yuh 😭”

a/n: FOR MY MATT GIRLS!!! When I got this request it gave me hella pervert and bad boy vibes and I RAN with it. ENJOY BABIES!! 🫦

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

Matthew Sturniolo. Where do you even begin to describe such a hopeless case like him?

Well for one, he was your classmate in your home room: Foundations of Communication. Which of course would be fine, however, he is the only junior enrolled in the required freshman class— after he had failed the class twice already.

You were nobody to judge, but there was just something about Matt that irked you to your core.

Perhaps it was the way he would always show up to class late. The collar of his grey uniform shirt always popped and the hem messily untucked.

Or maybe it was the musk smell of marijuana lingering on his being as it intermingled with the cheap cologne he tried to mask it up with.

Or possibly how he was determined to sit right behind you each time he decided to show up to class. He acted as if he were some horny high school boy; constantly kicking your seat, copying down your notes and answers, and sometimes even catching a few glances up your skirt.

You were convinced he was some sort of pervert, always looking up some unsuspecting girl’s skirt.

It was painfully obvious this guy was begging for your attention. And you for sure, were not willing to give him so much as an ounce.

*ೃ༄

“Fuck!” You screamed. The sun already rose, the bright light piercing your eyes as it shone through your dorm’s window.

You scrambled out of bed, it wasn’t like you to oversleep like this. But you had been up fairly late last night, studying for another class and must have accidentally slept through your alarm.

You rushed over to your closet, quickly grabbing hold to all your uniform items: your button up, white, collared top, your royal blue blazer, and your blue, plaid and pleated skirt to match.

You had nearly everything and was just about to make a run for it until you realized you didn’t have your stockings. Apparently you forgot to run down to the laundry room as well.

“Shit—“ You cursed under your breath, rummaging through your sock drawer. Luckily, you did end up finding a pair of white, thigh high socks.

They weren’t your first choice, considering how tight and uncomfortable they could get around your thighs in just a matter of seconds but it was no time to spare.

You hopped into both socks, pulling the fabric past your knees and letting them hug around the middle of your thighs. You scanned the room for your black mary janes, and stepped into both of them before running out the door.

*ೃ༄

Matt dragged his feet against the floor to the beat of the music blasting in his airpods— it was a miracle that his hearing was still in tact.

There was a tired, dead look in his eyes as he slowly made his way towards the flight of stairs. He was already 20 minutes late to class, what’s a few more?

The halls were empty as the rest of the student body were hidden away in the various closed classrooms.

That was until you suddenly peered around the corner, startling him.

“What the fuck?!” The harsh words tumbling out from his mouth before he could properly process who you were and why the hell you were running down the hall.

He scanned you from head to toe as he took one of his airpods out, noticing that you traded your usual black stockings for some white knee high socks.

Hot. He thought to himself, getting an eyeful at the plush skin of your thighs practically spilling out from the soft fabric.

Something only a pervert would notice right away.

“Move, Matt.” You huffed out, nearly out of breath from all the sprinting you’ve done this morning.

You nudged him with your arm, pushing him out of your pathway and darted up the stairs.

“You know we’re going to the same place, right?” Matt mumbled, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs.

You stop dead in your tracks, clutching onto the straps of your tote bag as you slowly turned around. You gave him an icy, cold glare as if he were transparent.

“Your point?” You ask in an obviously annoyed tone.

“No need to push, is all.” Matt shrugged with a stupid grin plastered across his face. “It’s not like the class is going anywhere.”

“Whatever.” You sighed out, quickly regretting engaging in a pointless conversation with this idiot. You quickly turned around and started making your way up the stairs.

Your heels clicked against each step and your skirt bounced with each movement you made— exposing just the slightest bit of your white panties that squeezed deliciously around the curves of your hips and ass.

He may not have been motivated to go to class before but he certainly was now. His footsteps matched your frantic ones as he followed you up the stairs, his eyes never leaving from your skirt as you continued to be completely oblivious.

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the top of the stairs when his inappropriate comment made realize he had been staring the entire time.

“White, huh?” He smirked, putting his airpod back in his ear.

Your mouth fell open and your heart pounded in your chest. Your fingers acting on instinct, immediately tugging at the hem of your skirt to pull it down to cover yourself. But the two of you knew it was already too late for that— Matt saw just about everything.

“Perv!” You shouted, your voice laced with embarrassment.

“Been called worse.” Matt teased as he dug his hands into his pant pockets.

“You’re horrible.” You continued.

“Yeah, yeah. Ladies first.” Matt replied, gesturing his head towards the classroom door.

You roll your eyes at his false flattery as he opened the door for you— just to steal another glimpse of your ass as you walked into the classroom.

*ೃ༄

“I’m sorry,” You repeat in shock, “You want me to do what?”

“I want you to partner up with Matthew Sturniolo for this project.” Your professor calmly repeated herself. “I know he is a bit… troubled— but I think having a positive influence like you in his life will change him for the better.”

You glanced over at the brunette from across the classroom. No way your grade was in jeopardy because of that moron. You let out a sigh before bringing your attention back to your professor.

“I will try my best.” You reply with a faint smile.

Your professor beamed with joy over your compassion, little did you know that you were the only student that was willing to assist Matt with his issues.

She handed you a thick stack of papers that were filled with the requirements for the project. You glanced over them as you slowly made your way back to your seat, Matt of course being right behind you.

“What’s that? Extra credit?” Matt asked, raising a brow.

“I wish.” You huffed out, turning around to face him, “It’s a project that you and I have to work on… together.”

“Says who?” Matt laughed.

“Says my grade! You’re not gonna fuck this up for me.” You snapped back.

“Alright, whatever, y/n.” He replied, throwing up his hands in defense. “What’s it even about?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked over it yet.” You reply, glancing back down to the stapled sheets of paper.

“When is it due?” Matt asked, taking advantage of the dramatic height difference the elevated seating gave him as he shamelessly looking down your shirt. He wasn’t able to see much because of how tightly you buttoned your top and blazer but just the mere thought of your tits pressing up against your clothes had blood rushing down to his dick.

“Friday.” You reply, looking up into his eyes. “What are you doing later?”

“Why? Finally coming to your senses?” He teased, you rolled your eyes.

“To work on the project, dumbass.” You scoffed, quickly shutting down his advances.

“Mhm.” Matt hummed, resting his chin in his hand as he peered down at you— loving the way your round eyes gazed up at him. “But to answer your question, no. I was gonna head back to my dorm after this.”

“Okay.” You continued, “I have other places be soon but I can meet you somewhere later… say 2:00?”

“Why not your dorm?” Matt grinned, causing yet another eye roll from you.

“My roommate doesn’t like people over.” You reply, “Plus you do weird shit. I don’t want you knowing which dorm I stay in.”

Matt’s tongue clicked against his teeth, making a tsk sound before he replied, “What about my dorm then?”

You took a moment to process what he said. At least this way he wouldn’t know which dorm you stayed in, but on the other hand you would be subjected to the living quarters of the biggest pervert you know.

But your grade was in jeopardy. You couldn’t let this mindless dimwit be the cause of that.

“Fine.” You say getting up from your seat. Matt watched as you put your supplies into your tote, “No weird shit, though.”

“Yes ma’am.” Matt joked.

*ೃ༄

Your heels clicked against the polished floor. Your eyes constantly flickering and scanning ever corner in the empty hallway. It had been your first time not only seeing but physically being in the men’s dorms.

Your tote bag hung from your shoulder, swaying against your hips with each timid step you took. You hugged your white binder close to your chest, anxiously digging your nails into the edges.

Many thoughts circled through your mind— thoughts that had taken a sharp left turn that you’d never admit aloud.

Half of you had hoped that Matt’s little “troubled bad boy” act was just a facade in hopes to getting some attention. But the other half of you had hoped for the opposite.

You couldn’t help but imagine what his stubble would feel like as it brushed against your inner thighs as he went down on you. You wondered if he was skilled with his tongue, hoping for the best.

You also fantasized about how it would feel for his large, rough hands wrapped around your throat or squeezing your waist. For his soft lips pressing hungry kisses into your skin, leaving marks in only places the two of you could see.

Your stomach fluttered getting lost in your lustful thoughts. What was the probability of all that happened?

Slim to none. You thought to yourself. Besides you weren’t meeting him at his dorm for sex. You both had a project to get done and meeting him here just so happened to be the best location.

“Nothing more, nothing less.” You whispered aloud, trying to convince your own mind of the fact. But your body was a dead give away, it yearned for Matt’s touch.

A shaky sigh fell past your lips, as you stopped dead in your tracks. There you were, standing face to face in front of Matt’s dorm— room 444.

You hesitated at first, wondering if you were making some sort of mistake by coming here, but eventually decided to lightly tap on the wooden door twice.

Your heart raced as you heard his footsteps quickly approach the door, being met by the brunette when he swiftly swung it open.

Your eyes scanned him; his hair a bit of a tangled mess, his popped collar on his grey button up, his leather belt wrapped around his waist, all topped off with black forces.

“Hey.” Matt spoke, his voice low and raspy. The vibrations in his voice sent shivers down your spine, nearly making your legs go weak— it was definitely going to be a tough project to focus on.

*ೃ༄

The two of you were sitting on his bed, your binder spread open and various documents scattered across his dark bed sheets. You sat with your legs tightly crossed, nonverbally sending a message to Matt’s perverted eyes. But that didn’t stop him from stealing a few glances.

In fact, your actions only excited him even more— this way he was able to take advantage of his very vivid imagination.

Matt let out a thrawt sigh, quickly becoming overstimulated as he listened to you ramble on and on about the project. The last 30 minutes seemed to drag on for ages and it was purely torture for him.

“Y/n, y/n. Please, no more.” The brunette groaned as he threw his head back towards the headboard, his adam’s apple protruding out as he spoke.

Your brows knitted together, rolling your eyes at his carelessness.

“Whatever, I’ll just end up doing it myself.” You tsk, stacking the documents back together neatly and placing them into the silver hooks in your binder.

Matt’s head shot back up, watching you quickly pack up your belongings. You swung your tote over your shoulder and leapt down from his bed.

“Wait.” He finally spoke as if you could read his mind that begged you not to leave. His palm wrapped around your forearm, gently holding you in place.

“You clearly don’t want to help me, so—“ You began to say before he cut you off.

“No, it’s not like that. I just—“ Matt interrupted, only to trail off the last few words when his eyes met your cold stare that saw right through his bullshit excuse. “—well, yeah…”

“My point exactly.” You reply. “So I might as well just leave.”

“I still want you to stay.” Matt spoke, nearly inaudible. You had never seen him such a state before; almost desperate. Surely your presence wasn’t that important to him. Or was it?

“To do what?” You say, turning back around so that your body faced his.

His hand dropped from your arm, bring his hand up to sheepishly comb through his locks, “To get to know you.”

“To get to know me?” You repeated with a sly grin, a hint of flirtation laced in your voice.

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged. “You can ask me shit too, I don’t care. I just want you here with me.”

You contemplated in your head whether it was best to leave or stay.

On one hand you’d get to explore this new side of Matt you had never seen before. But, on the other hand you would be exposing yourself to the biggest pervert on campus. Talk about reputation.

“Come on, please.” Matt fake pouted as he tapped his hand onto the bed, gesturing for you to come sit next to him.

Your legs moved on their own as if they were meant to follow every command that rolled off his tongue.

His lips curled up into a pleases smirk, watching you give into his request. You huffed, dropping your tote down to the floor and climbing back into his bed.

Your ass arched up as your knees sank down into the plush mattress when you climbed over his lap. You could feel his eyes piercing your skin, but at this point it would be strange if he hadn’t stared.

“Why do you do that?” You say, plopping down next to him, your back pressed into his white walls.

“Do what?” Matt replied, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Stare.” You mumbled. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you looking at my ass. Boobs too.”

All he could do is smile and throw his hands up in defense, “I mean, what can I say? I’m just a man after all.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, rolling your eyes at his redundant answer.

“That’s like asking you why do you eat.” He rambled. “You’re hot, so why wouldn’t stare? I just can’t help myself.”

You pressed your thighs together, beaming at the compliment hidden in his lewd choice of words.

“Besides, I can’t get in any trouble if I just look.” He continued.

“So… you can look but not touch? That’s the thing you got going on for me?” You reply.

“Precisely.” He smirked, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicker down to your breast before having the audacity to look back into your eyes. But this time you didn’t feel offended, if anything you were flattered.

A tingling sensation surged all through out your body, immediately traveling down below. A pool a heat bubbled between your legs as a faint pulse began to ache from your core.

“You know what that sounds like?” You smirked.

“What?” He asked.

“A pervert.” You teased, nudging his arm with yours.

Matt laughed off your little joke at first and paused a bit before finally asking, “Does it make you feel uncomfortable?”

You looked down at your hands, your ears growing hot with embarrassment as you fidgeting around with the sleeves of your blazer.

“Not always.” You muttered, bringing your eyes back up to his. Matt’s eyes were now hungry and full of desire; it took every fiber in his being to not pounce on you right then.

It wasn’t everyday where he had the girl he had obsessed over right in arm’s reach.

“What about now?” Matt mumbled.

“Touch me and find out.” You reply, inching closer towards him.

His face twisted in confusion, completely taken away at your sudden change of heart. He had grown accustomed to you turning down all of his sexual advances and here you were sitting up in his bed asking him to touch you. It was truly a dream come true for Matt; and he was going to be sure to savor this moment for the rest of his life.

He hesitated in the beginning, not sure if this was just one of your tricks. But he finally gave into the burning urge that welled inside him.

Your breath hitched feeling his finger tips gently brush against your thighs, slowly adding pressure as he palmed your plush skin through your high thighs.

You kept your eyes on his curious hand; slowly inching closer towards the hem of your skirt. His thumb traces soft circles into your flesh as he gaze you a slight squeeze.

His eyes flickered up to yours, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled.

Matt scooted closer towards you as if there were some magnetic pull between the two of you. His cologne filling up your nose as he positioned his head between your neck and shoulder, pressing warm kisses along the sensitive bits.

“Matt.. oh, God.” You whined, as he sank his teeth down into your flesh. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer towards him as the other snaked its way under your skirt.

Your breaths became heavy and uneven, taking in the way his mouth sucked on the nape of your neck; surely leaving an embarrassing mark to hide later.

But you didn’t care. All you could think about was Matt and the way he was touching you. Along with the many other things you craved that only he could provide.

A broken moan fell past your lips as you felt the pads of his fingers slowly circle your clit through your panties. Gently caressing you down to your entrance, the fabric already damp with your juices; you could feel Matt smirking against your skin with a breathy laugh before bringing his head back up to look into your eyes.

“Still okay?” He asked.

“Yes.” You reply in a husky breath. “Keep touching me.” You continued, cupping your delicate hands around his rough stubble.

You pulled him towards your lips, drawing him into a heated, desperate kiss. His lips made love to yours as if you were the only source of water left on the planet.

You yelped as Matt’s gripped both of your hips and pulled you up onto his lap, still keeping the kiss intact. He took the opportunity to slither his tongue past your lips, intertwining his with yours.

His tongue quickly dominated yours, allowing him to explore each part of your mouth. You whined into his mouth, feeling the bulge in his slacks pressed against your ass.

The two of your lips continued smacking together, as your curious hands traveled from his cheeks down to his collaring. Your fingers toying with the buttons, quickly unfastening them to rip him out of clothing.

He leaned in towards you, helping you remove the sleeves before tossing it onto the floor near your tote. You pulled away from his lips, a thin trail of your saliva mixed together connected to your lips.

Your eyes quickly averted down to his sleeve tattoos, your curious hand grazing over the ink of the various markings he had.

Your heart raced with excitement, how many other things had you not known about Matt?

“I thought tattoos were against school policy.” You muttered, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Can’t clock what they don’t see.” He smirked. “Scary, huh?”

“Shut up.” You whispered, a flustered expression written all over your face.

“It’s okay to be scared, princess.” Matt replied, bringing his hands down to your ass.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname he gave you, desperately waiting for the next time he’d say it.

“I’m not scared.” You reply, putting emphasis on the word.

“Oh yeah?” Matt teased. “Even when I do this?” His fingers sliding down to your stomach, unhooking the silver buttons to your blazer. You watched him slowly peel off your clothing, tossing it away.

“No.” You whispered, your breaths getting heavier by the second.

“You sure? I can feel you trembling.” Matt laughed, only to get playfully punched in the arm again. “Sorry, sorry.”

You let out a sigh, feeling his fingers loop underneath the buttons of your top, slowly stripping you down to your matching white bra. You wrapped your hands around your back, unhooking your bra; revealing your breasts to him.

Matt could hardly wait— already attacking your chest with kisses before your bra even hit the floor.

“Shit—“ You gasped, feeling his hands roam all over your body. He took one of your tits into his mouth, his tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

Your shuddered in his arms as you combed your fingers through his soft hair, giving the strands an occasional tug every now and then. Which caused him to grunt against your skin.

Your body curled in towards him as he switched his attention to your other breast, giving it the same amount of love. Your hips rocked into his, attempting to get even the smallest bit of friction against your core.

After a few moments, Matt finally unlatched from you and looked up at you with eyes full of desire.

Your eyes flickered down to the growing tent in his pants. Your hand instinctively palming him through the soft fabric. He winced feeling your fingertips brush against his length, little had you known how much he yearned for the very moment.

Your fingers slid up to the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling it down. Matt’s hips lifted up from the mattress, assisting you to set his aching member free.

His fingers slipped past the elastic waistband of his briefs, eagerly pulling them down past his waist. Your eyes widened as you watched his cock spring out, slapping against his stomach.

The tip of his dick flushed a rosy pink hue that matched his flustered cheeks. A bit of precum oozing out from the tip and slowly trickling down one of his thick, prominent veins. His member twitched with excitement, as he watched your flustered reaction.

Before you could form a sentence his lips were back on yours, another eager and intoxicating kiss that set your body a blaze. His hands slithered up your skirt once more, grabbing the waistband of your panties and pulling them down past your knees.

You helped him get them completely off by lifting up one of yours from the bed— unaware that he had them hidden just behind his pillow for another time.

You sat back down his lap, only this time there weren’t anymore barriers between both of your most sensitive parts.

He tilted his head in the opposite direction, deepening the kiss as he lifted you up by your ass, hovering you just above the tip of his dick.

Your arms draped around his shoulders as he lined himself with your entrance. A series of whimpered spewed out from you and Matt caught each one, still keeping the kiss in tact as you swallowed his dick whole.

“Matt—“ You sighed, feeling his balls press up against your ass you sat down completely on his lap. You hugged him closely, pressing your bare chest against his, hiding your flustered face in the crook of his neck. “—so big.”

“Yeah? Can’t wait to stretch this pussy out, princess.” Matt huffed out, grabbing a handful of your ass. He pressed various kisses along your shoulders, slurring his speech a bit as he continued, “You feel like a dream.”

You kept your face hidden but the sounds of your sweet cries were enough for Matt; being buried inside your cunt after all this time was just enough for him. He slowly began bucking his hips up into you, the sound of your arousal was music to his ears as your squelched with each thrust.

“Gonna fuck this pussy so good, baby.” Matt muttered, kissing your cervix with each move he made.

“Oh, God.” You whined in his ear, your nails digging into his back. “Just like that.”

Your warm, velvety walls hugged around his dick in all the right ways. Your pussy acted as a suction cup as if it were tailored just for him to suck the life out of his body.

He could spend hours— days even— inside you if you’d let him. But knowing you, you’d probably like to pretend all this never happened.

He wasn’t ready to snap back into reality just yet. Matt knew he had to take his time and savor this moment.

The bed creaked as Matt changed positions, gently pressing you down into the mattress as he hovered on top of you. His palms flattened against the back of your thighs, pushing your legs closing towards your chest.

Your tits squeezed together, bouncing each time his harsh thrusts met your hips.

“Fuck, baby. Squeezing around me so good.” He groaned. “Needed your pussy so bad.”

“Matt!” You screamed, knowing for a fact the other people in the dorms would hear.

Matt only continued shoving his dick further inside you as he pushed your legs back as far as they’d go.

Your legs trembled in his hands as his hips began to stutter. Your hands wrapped around your thighs, your fingers on top of his as you screwed your eyes shut.

Your clit ached and your walls tightened around his cock— you were so close.

“Cumming!” You wailed, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Do it. Cum for me, sweetheart.” Matt groaned, his finger tips digging into your thighs as he crashed his pelvis into you.

Your moans got louder and higher as you quickly approached your orgasm, soon releasing your juices all over him. Leaving his dick soaked with your arousal.

“Such a good girl, shit—“ Matt choked out, as he fucked you through your orgasm, using your cum as an extra lubricant. “Where do you want—“

“Inside!” You begged, before he could even form the sentence. “Please, Matt.”

His dick throbbed against your walls as he picked up the speed of his hips. Grunts spewing out from the brunette’s lips as he kept feeding you with lewd praises.

It wasn’t long before a loud, “Fuck!” came out of him as he splurged all of his cum deep inside you; filling you to the brim.

“Oh my God.” You sighed in attempt to catching your breath. Your eyes fluttered open, watching him slowly drag his dick out from you.

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some-bunniii · 3 months

Text

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

#Hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hellverse #OOC Lucifer?#He just ain’t as goofy #But I HC he’s only like that around Charlie :)#fanfiction #writing

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anastasiabowe · 3 months

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𝘾𝙃𝘼 𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂! — Your husbands who just can’t say no to your cute little face, but sometimes that comes with a cost you will have to pay.

note: This one came to me in a DREAM. I want a man like this, so why not make my man like this?🤷🏽‍♀️

Content warnings: overstim, piv, punishment, rich husband, spanking, tough love, swearing, anything else 17+

★ — 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜

Nanami loved when you were happy. It wasn’t even a happy wife happy life situation, it was a I love seeing her smile situation. He never denied you of any expensive item you wanted. I mean how could he say no to you? He watched as you practically skipped around the mall with his black card, showcasing it if anyone who glanced at you.

He smirked seeing you happy, but yet he felt a little disappointed by your lack of self control. He knew what he was getting into when he pulled out that million dollar ring. His strong arms were lined with black bags and name brands, your hands only holding his card and one small bag. He didn’t mind though, as long as you were happy!

But don’t think he lets you get away with everything! If you have an attitude after this shopping spree, which you do, he will punish you, and that’s because he loves you! It was an agreement, if you can spend his cash, he can use you, or what he likes to say, “enjoy you.”

“Nanamin!” You whined as your new set of black nails tried to push his stomach away.

“Yes?” His deep, yet professional voice oh so casually responded, despite his deep thrusts.

“P-please slow down! I can’t t-take it!” He chuckled at you, you were too cute to ignore, but this is what you deserve! You spent thousands of dollars today, and when he simply asked “are you almost done?” You give an attitude? Oh no, no, no. You weren’t going to get away with that.

“I’m sorry baby, just wanna show you who’s paying for everything you bought today. Just wanna show you who you were giving an attitude to.” He started to speed up, and you cried from the amount of orgasms you’ve had.

“Just one more, then you can have a break.” He kissed your head, and readjusted his position, you both know it won’t be one more.

★ — 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜

Toji hated when you spent his money. And what I mean by hate, I mean he will hand you his card and regret it later. You’re actually a modest shopper. You have a bit of an expensive taste, but you have respect for Toji enough to not go crazy. But when Toji had handed you his card at the mall and gave you and said something back handed, you went a little wild.

You bought new heels, expensive jeans, expensive make up, expensive bags. You swiped his card until your hand had a rectangular shape from how hard you gripped it while you tapped it to the card reader.

When Toji later that night checked all of the receipts (which you purposely got so he could see how mad you were) he nearly blew a fuse. $10,000 worth of items you bought. Even though that is nearly nothing compared to how much is in his bank account, it was the principle of it.

“I give you my fucking card only for you to use it like a fucking piece of plastic.” His hand smacked your left ass cheek, making you dig your nails into his thigh.

“I-I’m sorry!” You cried. He rubbed his hand over the deep red mark, and tsked.

“I bet you are.” He landed two more hits to your left and right cheek. You let out a whimper and he ripped both of your cheeks again.

“$10,000, y/n. What were you shopping for, a house?” He chuckled at his own joke, but you didn’t find this funny. He landed another smack. “What made you think that was ok?”

You sniffled from crying and the rage you felt earlier burned through your body again. “Maybe if you didn’t call me a gold digger, yo I wouldn’t be $10,000 poorer!”

The word “poor” irked something in him he hasn’t felt in a while. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head up.

“I’d watch your fucking mouth, I’m the one who fucking pays for your shit.” He spat, you frown, and your bottom lip slowly popped out. He knew what you were doing, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Nah, don’t pull that shit.” He smirked, but the longer he looked at your face the more guilty he felt.

“Y/n.” He warned. You continued to look at him with that face, and he sighed. “You spoiled brat.” He let go of your hair, and moved you to straddle him.

“Just don’t be spending my money all crazy ‘n shit.” You nodded, and he rolled his eyes.

You always fucking win.

#jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #kento nanami x black reader smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x black reader

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chimielie · 4 months

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cw: and they were roommates

oikawa has another date tonight.

you’re well used to it, the parade of people who he’s gone out with blurring together after years of friendship. especially now that you’ve moved in together and he bothers you every time someone says yes, like an excited puppy with a bone. and who wouldn’t say yes?

you’re lying on your bed, idly scrolling past cat pictures and outfit inspiration, while he blows in and out of your room, begging your opinion on every item in his closet. you don’t know why; you’ve gone through the whole thing a million times at this point and he always chooses just-slightly-too-tight jeans and a button-up open one button too far.

you’ve had nightmares about his collection of silky shirts. nightmares. only occasionally featuring the triangle of exposed chest.

“what about this one?” you roll to your side, blinking.

“i haven’t seen this one before,” you say thoughtfully. “do you still have enough money for rent? i swear you cycle through more clothes than i do in a year in a week.”

“shut up, do you like it?” his ears are burning red, and you smile. you like making him blush.

that’s a dangerous thought, so you turn your attention to his outfit, and—oh.

the new shirt is a cool, pale blue, complimenting the pink hues of his skin perfectly, looking like ice caps on winter waves. it’s tucked loosely into black pants, followed by black boots, laced up and tied with a perfect knot.

he looks like a million bucks.

“it’s perfect,” you say, after a beat too long of drymouthed silence. “um—when do you leave?”

he shoves the sleeve of the shirt up and checks his watch in one smooth motion, and you’ve seen his forearms a billion times, but encased in blue silk you kind of want to bite them? what a bizarre impulse.

“now,” he says, tone rising in panic. “shoot, i was gonna brush my teeth—how’s my breath?”

“how am i supposed to—” you start, but then he’s crossing the room, and you’re sitting up, spine straightening in confusion, and then he kisses you.

one long, hot press of the mouth over yours, his lips soft and open but claiming in a way that sucks every thought out of your head.

the silk of his shirt is cool in contrast to the heat of his skin, too.

“it’s—still fine,” you stammer when he pulls away. “minty. um.”

“perfect,” he says, adjusting his collar like he hasn’t just thrown your world off its axis. “see you later!”

you wave vaguely at his back, still scrambled as he exits your room, though not without turning to shoot you a cheeky wink and a peace sign. once you hear the front door slam shut behind him, you jolt out of your frozen state to fall back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, just one thought running through your mind.

“what the fuck?”

part 2 here.

#shorts!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #oikawa x reader fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tōru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #?;&:?3&?;&3!;?/8:

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moonalumi · 2 months

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arguing with ellie n it goes too far

idk if this has been done but um be ready y’all i’m bouta cry

warnings- guys this is kinda sad um, angst, arguing, crying ig, ellie being easily agitated n mean, mentions of death, reader comfort el at the end guys trust!!

“el what’s wrong?” you ask as sweetly as you can. worried about how your girlfriend has been ignoring you and other people all week. she’s just been in her own little world writing and drawing the days away. every now and then you heard little sniffles coming from her direction but choose to ignore it; thinking she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but it’s only been getting worse day by day.

she ignored your question again. flinching at your touch and cursing herself in her head for that.

“ellie please talk to me, i made you some food” you comfort once again, reaching out to brush out some tangles in her hair with your fingers.

“i don’t want it.” ellie mumbles out coldy. not even taking her attention away from her drawing.

“okay well i’ll leave it here in case you change your mind okay?” you kiss ellie’s head and unintentionally glance at her sketchbook. somehow she notices and slams it shut. pushing you away from her as well.

“cant you just leave me alone for two seconds?” ellie snaps. her tone of voice taking you by surprise.

“el— i’m sorry i didn’t look—“ you fumble your words. not knowing whether to look at the closed sketchbook or your angry girlfriend.

“i don’t care stop hovering over me constantly, i’m fine stop worrying.” ellie stands up to walk past you but not before you stop her.

“how am i supposed to know you’re fine? you certainly don’t seem fine when you haven’t even had a conversation with me in days!” ellie turns to look at you and you swear her eye contact with you could kill, you forget how mean she can look without trying to.

“drop it i don’t wanna argue with you” she trys walking away again but you grab her wrist.

“please talk to me, what’s wrong??” you beg, and lift your hand to push strands of her hair away from her face.

although ellie pushes your hand away, not roughly though, her touch is still soft unlike her words, “don’t fucking touch me just leave me alone i don’t want to be anywhere around you, just go.”

it hasn’t been the first time ellie had snapped at you like this and said awful things she didn’t mean. for some reason it’s in her nature to just lock away her feelings and attack anyone who tries to push their way in. unfortunately today you seem to be her victim. and after a year of being in love with her, you know her very well by now.

“you really want me to go ellie? cause i’ll go but who’s gonna be taking care of you like i am right now?” you raise your voice at her while picking up things of yours from around her room.

ellie just watches as you pick up your items. sitting there with a lil pout on her lips not saying a word as you stuff more stuff in a bag. but before you can even touch the doorknob to leave she stands up, “wait..” she whispers, if you listened carefully enough you would’ve heard her voice cracking.

“what is it?” you ask rather harshly. opening the door and stepping outside.

ellie panics, her eyes widening and her legs unintentionally making their way towards you in a rush, “wait don’t go” she whimpers.

only then do you turn to see ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her panicked expression. her tough angry demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. n that pout on her lips turned into quivering lips.

your own eyes soften at the sight. you can’t help but feel the pain and guilt for making her cry but you knew she needed a wake up call. you needed to let her know you won’t stand there and just take her hits.

“oh el i’m so sorry” you bring her in for a hug. letting her burry her face in your neck and squeeze you into her hold.

“n-no i’m so sorry i—shouldn’t have been so mean to you. don’t leave me” ellie hiccups and sniffles between her crys. getting your neck all wet with her tears and snot but you don’t mind.

“i’m not leaving you baby i just needed to teach you a little lesson i’m so sorry” you leave kisses all over her hair and scratch her back as she calms herself down.

lifting her head up, you kiss her cheek that’s all flushed and puffy n lead her back to bed. cuddling her and forcing her be little spoon.

a comfortable silence over takes you too as you just lay together, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” you whisper breaking the silence.

you feel ellie take a deep breath and intertwine your hands together, “it’s— around the time of joel’s death date, i think that’s why i’m being like this.”

“i’m so sorry ellie” you try and comfort but you know there’s not much you can say or do to make her feel better about it other than being here with her like this.

“can you scratch my back? it felt good earlier,” ellie smiles at you as she asks the question.

“of course, c’mere” you sit up and let ellie lay onto of you as you lift her shirt up to scratch her back until she falls asleep <33

free palestine !!

#ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #the last of us #ellie angst #ellie fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie x masc reader #ellie fanfic

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sim0nril3y · 5 months

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His Shirt

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: When searching for some comfortable clothes you find an old shirt of Simon's and decide to throw it on and Simon has an unexpected reaction. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, canon-typical swearing.

“Home, baby.” The sound of your voice called through your home. A night out with the girls had been more fun that you were expecting, a dinner and some drinks had been long overdue, plus there was so much going on in all your lives now it was just good to catchup with them. “Watching the football.” Simon called back from the living room.

Honestly, every cell in your body screamed to join, but there was a deep chill that was set into your bones from the cold weather outside. “Be right there.” Feet carrying you upstairs quickly you entered the bedroom, stripping out of your uncomfortable outfit down to your underwear and trying to find something more comfortable to throw on.

Nabbing a few clothing items, you threw them on the bed and went in search of a pair of socks, rummaging through your drawer to find the only ones there were an odd few that had devastating holes ripped through them. “Bollocks.” You muttered, rounding the bed and then searching through Simon’s drawer instead. Smiling as you nabbed a pair of socks that would engulf your feet, regardless you slipped them on.

About to shut the drawer you came to an abrupt stop when something red caught your eye, pulling it out a smile crawled across your lips. It was an old United shirt, probably decades old now and more than likely a gift because you just couldn’t imagine Simon buying this for himself. You held the material between your fingers and smiled to yourself, this could be interesting.

Venturing back downstairs, lingering behind him, sneaking into the kitchen as you quizzed casually. “What did you have for tea?” “Ordered a pizza.” Simon responded evenly; eyes still trained on the television laxly. “Some left in the fridge, if you want it.” Then adding, always looking out for your wellbeing. A moment of pause formed between you two as you lingered in the kitchen for a moment longer. “How was your night?” It was an off-handed comment, you knew that Simon didn’t really care for an answer because all he cared about was you made it home safely.

You built up enough nerve to enter the lounge, rounding the sofa to stand beside him with a thoughtful look on your face. “It was fine. It was nice seeing everyone…” Rattling off with gentle shrugs of your shoulders, forcefully ignoring the way that Simon gawked at you all dolled up in that shirt. “Fuck me…” It was low. It was almost like a prayer. For a moment you could have convinced yourself that those words hadn’t fallen from his lips, but they had and it made you pussy weep.

“What’re you wearing?” The sound of his voice as hoarse and low, boarding on a warning, it set your insides of fire and you attempted not to falter under his hard gaze. “Hmm? Oh this…” Your fingers tugged on the hem on the shirt. “I was just looking for some socks to borrow and I found this…” Then spinning on one foot and allowing him to observe the entire look. “Is it okay?”

The question hung between you before Simon muttered. “Fuckin’ hell…” Then scooting forward on the sofa and commanding. “Here…” Pointing between his legs. It was so difficult to fight the smile as you sauntered towards him, standing there between his spread legs. His dangerous eyes lingered across your body and moments later his hands were skimming up your bare legs, clasping at your outer thighs and letting out a low groan. “Fuckin’… gorgeous…”

Behind you the TV roared to life as Man United scored another goal, smiling down at his enamoured face you mentioned. “They just scored…” “Don’t care.” He grunted and in a sudden movement you were yanked down to be laying beneath his immense form on the plush cushions of the sofa. “Simon!” A squeak fell from your lips as your head spun wildly.

“Shh.” Simon grumbled. “Let me take care of you…” His lips skimmed against your own, but ultimately avoided your lips as you tried to capture him into a searing kiss. Instead, he began to meticulously kiss down your frame, the feel of his hot mouth over the soft fabric of the shirt. Those war-worn hands tugging down your knickers and chortling lowly at the wet stain that was pooled into the gusset. “Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

A moment later your legs were thrown over his shoulders, exposing your wet cunt to his wonting eyes. “Fuck…” He whispered, leaning forward to pepper small kisses against your mound, nibbling at your lips to cause you to arch and squirm in his tight hold, his lips were everywhere but where you needed them to be. “Stay still.” He muttered, again another warning and this wasn’t one that you were willing to test.

The way that Simon’s tongue worked was like magic, his eyes focused up on your face as your own rolled back in pleasure at the feel. His tongue languidly seeping up and down your slit, teasing your hole for a moment before raising up to flick slowly at your clit. “Oh, god.” You whispered, trying to follow his orders but unable to fight the express. Simon smirked at the way your thighs quivering around his head, wanting to trap him there forever.

When his mouth sealed around your clit a noise of pure pleasure spilled from your throat, arching up off the sofa and gripping your fingers into his short hair, tugging at the tresses as your toes curled in delight. “Ohmygod. Ohmygod.” You were panting now, taut nipples pressing against the fabric of the shirt. Simon couldn’t take his eyes from your writhing frame, sucking from intensely, grunting and groaning into your cunt, praising you in his head as his mouth was occupied.

A thigh was released from his grip as two of his thick fingers sunk into your wet heat, causing you to cry out again along with the crowd of the television. “Si-mon…” Hoarse and wonting, you couldn’t control the sounds that were tumbling from your throat now, completely feral with pleasure as his fingers hammered into her weeping walls, finding that special spot and overwhelming it with his fingers. “Ohfuck. So… so close… Ohgod… Oh… Simon~” A cry of pleasure tumbled from your lips.

As if some kind of cosmic joke the television roared to life again as another goal was scored whilst your entire frame spasmed and convulsed as his lips remained taut around your cunt, suckling hard on your clit to throw you into your orgasm. Popping away with a slick ‘pop’ moments later Simon smirked and pressed small kisses to your swollen cunt, slipping his fingers from where they were buried. “Good girl.” He whispered against your skin. “My good girl.” He mentioned, pressing a sweet kiss to your engorged clit and fighting back a grin as you jolted.

Simon spent time soothing you, pressing little quaint kisses to your thighs and rubbing your stomach soothingly and after a while you seemed to regain enough composure to speak. “T-think I’m… I’m going to need to wear your shirts more often…” A chuckle came from the man between your legs and he bite into your thigh playfully and responded. “I wouldn’t disagree with that, love.”

Masterlist | Ask | 14-11-2023

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley imagine #ghost smut #ghost angst #simon riley smut #ghost mw3 #cod mw3 #call of duty mw3 #simon ghost riley smut #1k

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